


Mist and Sunset

by notjustalittlegirl



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Goodbyes, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Parent-Child Relationship, Reconciliation, Reunions, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8411011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustalittlegirl/pseuds/notjustalittlegirl
Summary: "When Elrond saw the familiar figure in the distance, walking as quickly as he could towards the harbor without actually breaking into a desperate run, he thought it was his apprehension about leaving his sons and daughter in Middle Earth causing his mind to play tricks on him. It couldn’t possibly be him, the elf that Elrond believed the figure to be." 
Or, Maglor and Elrond say goodbye as Elrond boards the ship to leave Middle-Earth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was just a little idea I had one day, and I wrote it very quickly instead of studying for my AP Euro unit test so it is unbeta'd and all mistakes are mine.  
> I'm sorry if you have written something like this, and I promise I'm not trying to copy you!  
> I do not own the Silmarillion, the Lord of the Rings, or any of the characters. Please don't sue me, I'm poor. 
> 
> Anyway, disclaimer, disclaimer, I hope you like it!
> 
> **Update: [Myaire21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myaire21/pseuds/Myaire21) drew [this](http://myaire21.tumblr.com/post/152516583119/i-tried-to-draw-one-of-the-scenes-of-this-awesome) based on one of the scenes in here! *squeals!* (It's so sad but it's so good go check it out!)

When Elrond saw the familiar figure in the distance, walking as quickly as he possibly could towards the harbor without actually breaking into a desperate run, he thought it was his apprehension about leaving his sons and daughter in Middle Earth causing his mind to play tricks on him. It couldn’t possibly be him, the elf that Elrond believed the figure to be.

He turned away, trying to shake the image from his mind. Because he knew those steps. He couldn’t forget them if he had tried. And he had.

When the figure drew even closer, Elrond realized that there was no way his mind could have been fooling him, and he could tell from her startled, somewhat apprehensive, expression that Galadriel too had recognized Maglor.

At this new distance, only several meters away, there was absolutely no mistaking him. However grayed, filthy and hunched in misery he may have been, Elrond would still recognize anywhere the elf who had raised him.

His mind whirred in a mixture of apprehension and excitement at seeing Maglor again. He hadn’t seen his adopted father for an age, not since he and Elros had stormed angrily from their home; yelling that Maglor and Maedhros were “monsters,” and “not their parents,” and that they “never wanted to see them again!”

Elrond flinched in shame, remembering the cruel way that he and his twin had walked away, leaving the elves who had never been anything but kind to them, who had never done anything to them but love them.

His regret rose to the surface and deepened in his mind, remembering seeing Maglor’s pleading expression out of the corner of his eyes, as he and Elros slammed the door and Maglor and Maedhros had collapsed, brokenly, into each other’s arms. As he had tried and failed to not look over his shoulder, hoping in the deepest and darkest part of his heart that he and Elros had hurt their fathers the way he thought they deserved, he had felt a twinge as he saw Maedhros stroking Maglor's hair as his little brother sobbed, tears running slowly down his own cheeks.

Taking the final steps, Elrond saw Maglor hesitate, probably due to nerves of his own, wondering if his child still harbored the hatred toward him from so long ago, and so Elrond took the initiative and crashed forward into his adoptive father’s arms, praying that Maglor would let him apologize for the wrongs that had passed between them.

Once Elrond was there, safe in the familiar embrace of his father, Maglor showed no more hesitation. He crushed Elrond, far taller than himself, to him as if he never planned to let go again.  No words were spoken for quite some time, and the two elves simply reveled in being together.

Finally, the elder broke the silence. “I’ve missed you so much, ion-nin.”

Elrond buried his face deeper into Maglor’s knotted and tangled hair, once so smooth and shining, breathing it in. “I’ve missed you too, Atya.”

“I am so sorry, Elrond, for interrupting you right before you leave for Valinor. I should have come to you earlier, but I was not sure if you would want to see me. After you and Elros left-”

Maglor choked back a sob at this, his most painful memory beside losing his brothers, and Elrond felt tears springing to his own eyes.

“No, Atya! _I’m_ sorry! The way Elros and I left… The things we said… It was unforgivable.” Elrond sniffled after rushing the words, making sure he got everything out. Being in his father’s arms again made Elrond feel exactly like an elfling again, and all he wanted to do was stay there forever and let Maglor comfort him.

The other pulled reluctantly away from the embrace, putting his hands on either side of Elrond’s face and forcing him to look him in the eyes. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. _Nothing._ The things I’ve done… Those are the _only ones_ that are unforgivable, and, despite what you and Elros may have said or done, I forgave you the moment you left.”

“I forgive you too. There was a time, I must admit,” said Elrond, tears openly streaming down his face now as relief flooded him at his father’s words. “When I hated you for the things you’d done. That’s why I left! But I can’t hate you anymore, I just _can’t!_ I’ve seen unforgivable since I left, Atya, and that’s not you!”

“I appreciate that.” Maglor shifted his eyes, finally, away from Elrond, still holding him tightly, and towards Galadriel, who had been drifting closer to her cousin and son-in-law throughout their reunion.

“Oh, Artanis,” he said in nearly a whisper. “Just look at you. It’s been an age.”

“Hello, Makalaurë,” she responded. The two did not touch, but Galadriel gave a reminiscent smile.

“Look at you. You’re so beautiful. Why, I remember when you were just a tiny little baby. And now you’re better than the best of us. I’m so sorry-”

The blonde elleth cut her cousin off. “Hush. None of that, Cánafinwë. What’s past is past. We needn’t dwell on it.”

Maglor didn’t argue. “Tell my mother-” he swallowed heavily. “If you can find my mother, if you can find Nerdanel, tell her… Tell her how much I love her, and how very sorry I am. We all were. Take care of Elrond for me, please. Oh, Artanis, you get to go home.”

Both their eyes filled with an unreachable distance, and Elrond could tell that they were thinking of their pasts in Valinor.

“Wait,” he said, realizing finally the nagging fear that had lingered in the back of his mind since Maglor had first appeared. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Oh, sweetheart. No, I cannot.”

“What? Why? The Valar would forgive you, I know they would!”

“Even if that was so, Elrond, there is no place for me there anymore.”

The child in Elrond, resurfaced after the appearance of his father, wanted to cry and protest, _insist_ that Maglor board the ship with him and Galadriel. But he knew really, with the wisdom that he had gained, that his father was right. He could not return.

“I suppose I know, Atya. I just wish… What will you do now?”

Maglor and Galadriel met eyes, and shared a meaningful look that Elrond, even with all of his many years, could not understand.

“I suppose I will continue my wanderings. I have my music. I can play until the world ends.”

Gandalf appeared all too quickly, placing a sympathetic hand on Elrond’s shoulder. “Elrond, we must go. If we do not leave soon, I fear Bilbo Baggins will be too weak to survive the journey.”

Elrond threw himself again into Maglor’s arms, burying his face once more into his father’s shoulder. Maglor rubbed his back soothingly, whispering into his ear how much he loved him. Elrond did not see him give Galadriel an almost imperceptible shake of his head.  

Tearfully, Elrond boarded the ship. Maglor waved until he was no longer in sight, yelling “I love you,” at the disappearing boat as it was swallowed by the mist.

* * *

 

One of the very last things that Maglor had said to his remaining son was a lie. Not the part about loving him, for Maglor loved Elrond more than he loved himself. But the son of Fëanor had no plans to continue his listless wanderings for the rest of time.

When Elrond and Elros had first come to Maglor and Maedhros, the two had made a second oath, one all their own.

_Always protect them. Never let them see how broken you truly are._

As he looked into Elrond’s eyes for the final time, Maglor had realized that he could not break it.

Artanis knew. Of course she knew, for there was no one who could keep a secret from his youngest cousin. And she would probably tell Elrond, for she was not a liar. Maglor just couldn’t bring himself to see either the horrible pain or the lack of it when he told Elrond the truth of his plans. He was still a coward. He had looked at Elrond again, and he simply couldn’t do it.

When Maglor and his brothers had sworn the oath to their father, they had all bound themselves to the same fate. His brothers had met it long ago, but he was still cheating it. But Maglor was tired. He couldn’t run from fate anymore.

Besides, the only thing other thing he wanted besides seeing Elrond again was to again be with his own father, and his brothers.

Maglor had been considering, ever since he realized that his time was up, how he should do it.

He had thought passingly of poison, a quick-acting poison that would put him to sleep quietly, but had almost immediately ruled it out.

His life had been dominated by the oath, and therefore the sword, so he had concluded that his own sword was a fitting ending for him.

He and Maedhros had both felt blades at their own hands before, and at those of others, but Maglor could not deny that he was afraid to feel it again.

The final ship had disappeared from view entirely, and Maglor knew it was time. He had said goodbye to Elrond, and the only thing left for him to do was to meet his family again. Besides, maybe when the final son of Fëanor had finally gathered his courage and destroyed himself, the world of Middle-Earth could move on, and finally be free from the horrors that he and his brothers had committed.

It truly did not matter where he went now, the result was the same, so Maglor simply sat down on a bench beside the harbor, feeling around in his belt for his beautiful dagger, one that Curufin had made for him in the years directly following their exile from Valinor.

As he placed the blade of the dagger against his prone wrist, Maglor closed his eyes, afraid that seeing his own blood spilling from him would somehow lessen his strong resolve.

He pressed the dagger down and sliced quickly, before he could somehow change his mind, biting his lip at the sting. The sensation of hurting himself in this way felt familiar, and even kind, reminding him of a time when he and Maedhros, alone together after they had put their twins to bed, had simply sat together, Maglor’s head resting on his elder brother’s shoulder, and tried to atone for their sins through their own blood. It hadn’t worked.

He quickly sliced his other wrist before he became too dizzy and his head hit the bench. To Maglor, dying did not feel much different from living, other than the fact that he was slowly bleeding out. If anything, there wasn't  _enough_ pain.

Dying, however, gave Maglor cause to reflect on his life. The things he’d done brought tears to his eyes and, being the coward he was, he decided that focusing on them would make dying far more unpleasant, even if unpleasant was exactly what he deserved.

His death could not make up for the lives lost because of him.

Instead, he chose to focus on the relief of finally being able to see his family again. It had been rumored that dying caused one to see a white light, but Maglor couldn’t see it.

Rather than a white light, as he drew closer and closer to death, Maglor could see nothing but red. At first, he thought it represented the color of the blood that he had spilled but, as he looked closer, it looked more like the sunset color of his older brother’s beautiful hair.

Maglor breathed for the final time, and the final son of Fëanor departed Middle-Earth at last.     

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read this! I appreciate it!


End file.
